


breathe in the stars

by bonjourziall (punkjuggie)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, M/M, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, ace-aro!niall, zarry friendship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:30:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkjuggie/pseuds/bonjourziall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn blinks, a little bit confused and a little more awed. “You mean, like a…” he trails off, cannot bring himself to say out loud the words on the tip of his tongue.</p><p>“Yeah, a suicide pact,” Niall finishes off for him and he wants to hate him because he makes it look so easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathe in the stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thing I wrote for my creative writing class, and I edited to make it ziall because I'm ziall trash. Sue me. This story deals with depression, anxiety, bipolarity and suicide so if this triggers you in anyway, don't read it. Also, seek help and talk to someone if you feel like taking away your own life. There are people out there to help you. Everything's gonna be fine. Find me @ www.bonjourziall.tumblr.com if there's anything. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy! xx

 

We have no control over the way we come into this world. From the start, we have no control over our lives, yet still, this very first day controls the way our life is going to be for the next couple of years. Some come into the world in a loving family; others end up in a dysfunctional one. Some of us are planned, others are not. Some of us are healthy, with all our body parts, while others don’t always have this chance. Some of us only may seem healthy on the surface, at first glance, but aren’t.

 

We have no control over the way we come into this world. We have very little control during our time in this world.

 

What we have absolute control over, is the way we choose to leave it.

 

~

 

June 21, 2015

8:46 pm

 

The sun has already set when Zayn and Harry arrive in the vacant parking lot. The rumbling of the engine of Zayn’s beat-up car comes to a halt as they slide into their usual spot, under the flashing lamppost, in a dark corner of the small car park.

 

The silence is suddenly deafening, except for the nervous patter of Harry’s foot against the passenger door, in a steady rhythm. From his side of the car, Zayn notices a bead of sweat running down the side of his friend’s face and he can hear his breathing becoming more frantic.

 

It was bound to happen, Zayn thinks, but it seems Harry was getting better in the past few weeks.

 

“You need your inhaler?” he asks quietly. He knows panic attacks can trigger his friend’s asthma, but Harry stubbornly shakes his head.

 

Still, the pale bony hands begin trembling and Harry’s face twists in discomfort as it does each time he suffers chest pains.

 

“Come on, let’s go sit on the hood,” Zayn offers firmly, while he undoes his and Harry’s seat belt. “Take a bit of fresh air and you’ll breathe better.”

 

Harry doesn’t fight back, just nods and steps out of the vehicle with shaking legs. The gust of warm wind comes as a relief while the boys climb the car to sit side by side, their backs resting against the windshield.

 

Harry draws his legs up to his chest and rests his forehead on his knees, taking deep breaths and willing his heart to stop pounding against his ribcage. As always, he’s thankful for Zayn’s silent support. There’s nothing worse than when people ask him to describe the pain as if they could help. The pain is indescribable and different from one attack to another. There is nothing that anyone can do to help. Zayn knows that and Harry appreciates it.

 

“Feeling better?”

 

“Much,” Harry replies. “I just can’t believe the time has already come.”

 

“I know, buddy,” he says softly, looking up at the stars. “Me too.”

 

~

 

September 3, 2014

8:11 am

 

The sound of scraping chairs against the cold tile floor is a familiar one. It’s just one of these things Zayn has gotten accustomed to, as he watches the other kids place their chairs in a circle.  After four years, it does nothing to him.

 

He’s in one of those “moods” again, as his mom always says. He doesn’t really care about anything. He doesn’t feel excited or anxious or nervous like he usually does at the beginning of a new school year. He just goes through the motions.

 

Harry, sitting in the chair next to him, is the total opposite. He’s jittery, on edge, more so than usual. He has one hand clamped on one of his thighs, while the fingers of his other hand are drumming an unsteady beat on the side of the chair. His gaze is stuck on the floor, examining the gray, dull tiles of the therapy meeting room.

 

It is the first day of their final year of high school. “Senior year, baby,” Zayn’s mom had told him with a wink, handing him the brown paper bag with his lunch. He had forced a smile for her sake, but both of them knew it wasn’t quite working. And there he is, back in homeroom where he has to suffer through his therapy meeting before the dreadful day ahead.

 

The teacher's introduction has already been made and he is encouraging the students to stand up and introduce themselves when the door opens to reveal a newcomer. He is a small blond, his rosy skin flushed and hair a mess under a snapback. His chest is heaving, as if he is catching his breath as he moves to sit in a vacant chair beside Zayn.

 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he says, dropping his bag at his feet. “Couldn’t find the room,” he explains.

 

“That’s fine. Why don’t you just introduce yourself and we’ll call it square,” the teacher smiles at him. The boy shrugs and stands up.

 

“My name is Niall, I’m seventeen and this summer, I tried to kill myself,” he tells the others nonchalantly and sits back down.

 

Zayn is instantly drawn to him. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re both alike. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s really, really cute.

 

“And now, how do you feel?” the teacher says and Zayn almost snorts. How do you feel?

 

“I usually just don’t feel anything, but then again, that might be the antidepressant.”

 

That shuts the teacher up. Zayn really likes the boy.

 

~

 

June 21, 2015

9:03 pm

 

Harry looks down at his watch, letting out a frustrated sigh. “He’s late. Maybe he’s not coming. Zayn, what if he’s not coming?”

 

“Calm down. He’ll be here.”

 

Harry nods but does not seem satisfied with this answer. He keeps fidgeting like he always does so Zayn ignores him. Instead, he raises his head to look at the stars.

 

He’s going to miss them. The parking lot is the best spot to take a good look at them, with its bad lighting and big trees blocking the town’s bright lights. They're right there, constant but untouchable and he loves it. When he was younger, he was told that when we die, we reach the stars. Zayn has always wanted to touch the stars.

 

“Maybe he forgot,” Harry whispers. “He fell asleep and she forgot.”

 

“He’ll be here.”

 

~

 

September 7, 2014

8:45 am

 

“Why didn’t it work out?” he asks him.

 

Zayn is fascinated by the boy. It’s not just that he’s cute, though he really is. No, it’s more than that. It’s the fact that they’re so alike and he feels connected with him on a deeper level. He’s got him under his skin and they've just met.

 

“I don’t know. My grandma said God was watching out for me. I think I just didn’t take enough pills.” He cracks a smile and Zayn’s own mouth quirks in amusement.

 

“I’ve never had the guts to do it,” Zayn admits. “Though it’s always been a nagging thought in the back of my mind, especially during depressive episodes. Then I’d have a manic episode and I’d forget all about it.”

 

“It’s tough decision. Scary,” Niall says and Zayn nods. “We should do it together,” he adds after a while.

 

Zayn blinks, a little bit confused and a little more awed. “You mean, like a…” he trails off, cannot bring himself to say out loud the words on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Yeah, a suicide pact,” he finishes off for him and he wants to hate him because he makes it look so easy.

 

He usually feels confident in his own skin. He knows he’s not bad looking. The girls and boys have always lavished their attention on him and he’s never been unpopular. Still, whenever Niall is around, he can’t help but feel slightly inadequate. He makes him feel like a coward.

 

“When?” he surprises himself.

 

He shrugs. “End of the school year, right before graduation.”

 

“Like prom?”

 

“Prom sounds good,” he smiles and pushes back a strand of hair off his forehead. “I hate suits and ties anyway.”

 

‘I bet you’d look good in one’ he thinks but doesn’t voice the thought.

 

“I’ll talk to Harry about it,” he says instead, and Niall seems satisfied with his answer.

 

~

 

June 21, 2015

9:10 pm

 

They hear the squeak of Niall’s old bicycle before they actually see him. It’s a noise they have gotten accustomed to over the year as he would near either Zayn’s or Harry’s house. They see his shadow on the cement of the parking lot while his face is still in the shade of the night, a long hose in his hand. He’s smiling brightly.

 

“I told you he’d come,” Zayn tells Harry and jabs him in the ribs.

 

“Getting worried I wouldn’t?” Niall teases and shoves Zayn to let him a place on the hood of the car. “What are you guys doing?”

 

“Watching the stars,” Zayn answers while Harry says, “Trying to regulate my breathing.”

 

Niall laughs. “Good ol’ Harry.”

 

Zayn looks at Niall at his side. He has his hair up tucked under a beanie and his lips are slightly chapped. He thinks he’s beautiful and he wants to kiss him. He knows he can’t. Instead, he holds out his hand, his palm up to the sky and Niall intertwines their fingers without taking his eyes off the sky.

 

And in that moment, they breathe.

 

~

 

January 8, 2015

11:40 pm

 

“Can I kiss you?” Zayn asks. Niall raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Why?” he replies, and Zayn wants to cry or laugh. Maybe both.

 

They’re on Niall’s bed like they usually are because his parents are never home. Unlike Zayn’s or, even worse, Harry’s, Niall’s parents don’t seem all that concerned with his disorder. “Their idea of fixing me was to send me to that stupid therapy thing,” he had once explained when the boys had voiced their confusion about their absence. On the rare occasions that his parents would come home though, they would all meet up at Zayn’s instead.

 

“Because I like you and I think you’re cute,” Zayn states and thinks it should be obvious. He wonders if that was what he wanted him to say.

 

“Oh,” he murmurs and then, “no.”

 

Zayn is taken aback. They have been hanging out together a lot, often sharing a meal; they’ve been sharing secrets and spending almost every waking minute with one another. He thought this was the logical next step to their friendship.

 

“Why not?” he tries because he honestly doesn’t understand.

 

“I think that kissing is gross,” he says in a neutral tone, almost matter-of-factly. Zayn is only getting more confused. “I have kissed before,” he adds before he can say anything. “My first kiss was a boy named Adrian, and I didn’t like it. Then I kissed Carl and Liam. No enjoyment from the experience. I figured I might be into girls, but it was the same with Sarah and Katie. So I stopped kissing and dating altogether.”

 

“You’re weird,” he says but he immediately wants to take it back because doesn’t want to hurt him. To his surprise though, he shrugs and nods in agreement. “What do I do now? I still love you.”

 

“I guess you could love me like you love a child. You know, innocent love and all that crap.”

 

There is a slight pause. And then, “I don’t like children.”

 

Niall laughs, the sound bright and colourful, and Zayn thinks he might be temporarily blinded by his love. He wouldn’t mind.

 

Later that night, when they’re both sprawled out on each side of the bed, Niall snoring in the pillow, Zayn runs his fingers through his hair.  "You're not weird," he says softly. He hopes it somehow gets to him in his sleep.

 

~

June 21, 2015

10:00 pm

 

“I think it’s time,” Niall announces, squeezing Zayn’s hand and letting go.

 

They all jump off the car, limbs weak from being in the same position for so long. Zayn silently slides into the driver’s seat while Harry goes for the back seat and Niall moves to the rear of the car.

 

“Whenever you’re ready, Z,” he calls and Zayn smirks as he put the key into the ignition. The car hiccups as it always does and the engine starts to purr. When Niall taps on his window, he rolls it down just a tiny bit, enough to let the tip of the hose in, and rolls it back up immediately to keep the air inside.

 

Niall gives them the thumbs up and climbs into the passenger seat.

 

Zayn laments that the stars don't shine as brightly as they did when they were sitting outside but finds consolation in the fact that he’s got his own star sitting on his right.

 

Harry’s voice is the first to interrupt the silence. “I’ve got the tapes.”

 

“Awesome,” Zayn replies and inserts one in without even looking at the labels. Nothing really matters at this point.

 

He reaches for Niall’s hand as both guitar riffs and carbon monoxide fill the car.

 

~

 

April 14, 2015

8:15 pm

 

“I stayed up all night doing all sorts of research,” Zayn tells them excitedly, and Harry throws him an uneasy glance. Zayn is manic and Harry knows it means his friend is unpredictable. He wonders if Zayn has stopped taking his meds. His friend seemed fine lately and his last manic episode dated back to July. He looks over at Niall who doesn’t seem at all concerned but then again, he's never seen this side of him before.

 

“You did?” Niall encourages him.

 

Zayn nods. “I wanted to go to the library but it’s Easter weekend and it was closed.” He sinks his fingernails into the palm of his hand. “Shall we, like, vote on the preferred method or something?” he asks them.

 

“Yeah, why not,” Niall agrees and turns to look at Harry who nods as well.

 

“OK, what about wrist cutting?”

 

“Too messy.”

 

“Firearms.”

 

“Too loud.”

 

“Sitting on rail track and getting hit by a train.”

 

“I’m really not good with punctuality, I’d probably miss it,” Niall tells them with a sheepish look and the boys agree.

 

“I personally kind of liked poison by carbon monoxide,” Zayn proposes next. “You know, all three, sitting in my car, listening to some music and then bam, we’re out.”

 

“Like stars fading away into morning,” Niall thinks out loud.

 

“I like it,” Harry agrees.

 

“Glad it’s settled then!” Zayn waves goodbye and he’s out the door.

 

Harry worries for his friend, but then again, Zayn would tell him he always worries about something.

 

He wouldn’t be wrong.

 

~

 

June 21, 2015

some time later

 

He’s shaken awake by strangers’ hands as they lift him up from his seat. There are fingers at his neck, others at his wrist and he can’t breathe. He tries to reach for his inhaler but the hands are too strong.

 

“Hang in there, buddy,” he hears. There are bright lights and suddenly, the wind is on his face. He feels sleepy but every time he tries to close his eyes, there’s a hand on his cheek and a loud voice preventing him from going to sleep. He doesn’t know where he is or what is happening. He’s just sleepy.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Zayn and Niall sleeping in the car. Their hands are linked. He thinks about the strangers and how they probably think the two of them are a couple. He knows how much Ni would hate it. He didn’t do boyfriends, or girlfriends for that matter. He loved unconditionally, but only under certain terms and conditions.

 

The world is hazy, blurred around the edges. The strangers’ hands are lowering him into a hard surface and strapping him to it. He doesn’t feel anything, which is weird because he used to feel so much: panic, anxiety, excitement, disappointment. Now he just doesn’t. He wonders if this is how Zayn and Niall feel. Empty.

 

He hopes for their sakes not.

 

The world is hazy, and Harry is sleepy, and the last thing he sees as he stares ahead are the stars.

 

  
  



End file.
